Fate plays a funny trick sometimes, hitting you when you least expect it. The quiet return of Arsalan and Yasir from coaching was routine, their minds perhaps distracted by upcoming tests—what sort of presentations would work, the common weight of being a teen on their shoulders—but death doesn’t come knocking; it certainly does not appear in two men dressed in plain clothes. That night they visited Arsalan as angels of death. He certainly did not expect to die out on the streets of Orangi. But just like that, another boy had been turned into a suspect.
What Is A Fake Encounter? – Why does it matter?
According to the South Asian systems, a “police encounter” looks something like a shootout between the police force and “alleged” criminals. The term “encounter” refers to sporadic, spontaneous shootouts where the alleged criminal is shot down and the officers sustain little to no injuries; often, these encounters result in the deaths of said suspects while in police custody; hence, these shootouts help fabricate the whole process. In other words, it is also termed a “euphemism for extrajudicial killings by security forces”.
In many of these cases, the crime scene is arranged like a movie set with meticulous planning. The suspects are mostly bypassed without a trial, weapons are planted as evidence, and FIRs are fabricated to further support police claims, whereas a dead suspect is paraded around as justice served. They are blatant violations of the human rights of suspects being treated by the law. Amnesty International further elaborates on it by saying,
“Extrajudicial killings are killings which can reasonably be assumed to be the result of a policy at any level of government to eliminate specific individuals as an alternative to arresting them and bringing them to justice.”
— Amnesty International, 2003 Report on Extrajudicial Executions (Amnesty Report).
In places like Orangi, this has now become routine.
Why Orangi? Understanding the Pattern
In the northwest periphery of Karachi stands Orangi, attributed as the largest slum of Pakistan, home to over 2.4 million people—having experienced rapid growth during the Bangladesh liberation war in 1971. Like all other poverty-ridden areas, the biggest issue Orangi has yet to tackle is its crime rate, gang violence, targeted attacks, and whatnot. With the population mainly consisting of diverse communities, ethnic clashes become inescapable, which further fuels violence and even full-blown attacks. The rapid increase in residents of Orangi has strained efforts to provide infrastructure facilities, creating a breeding ground for crime. So to put it lightly, this town has had its fair share of police encounters; mainly, its history of both organised and political crime has resulted in a few interactions with the forces.
With the lack of education, infrastructure, and legal address, the town grows vulnerable to police abuse, often lacking the means to challenge wrongful actions. The police forces in Orangi allegedly operate with little to no foresight. This frequently emerges as supposedly fake encounters carried out by the forces for personal gains, such as to show their apparent progress in stopping crime; they may be carried out to settle personal vendettas or protect powerful interests—neglecting their main duties to protect the innocent and not frame them.
Two Cases—Same Patterns
To understand this, we must examine several of the recent cases, starting from Arsalan Mehsud to Bilawal and Naqash.
Arsalan Mehsud:
What does it mean when a child becomes a suspect? Who better to answer this than 16-year-old Arsalan Mehsud, whose only crime was rushing home from his coaching and into his mother’s arms? Death doesn’t come knocking, and for Arsalan, it came on Monday night in Orangi Town-5.
Arsalan Mehsud, son of Haji Liaquat Mehsud, who is the president of the All Dumpers Association, was a student of intermediate and was returning from his coaching institute when he was killed in a fake encounter by the police on Monday night in Orangi Town 5.
According to the police, he and his partner, Yasir Afridi, were orchestrating a robbery; they were chased and killed by the Orangi Town police; Yasir was wounded while Arsalan was killed. The police claimed that a shoot-out had started—Arsalan allegedly pulled a weapon.
All eyes turned to Yasir, who had witnessed the whole endeavour. In his statements, Yasir revealed that the officers, Tauheed and his friend Umair, were in civilian clothing; they tried snatching the motorbike from Arsalan and Yasir. Upon their resistance, shots were fired, resulting in the death of Arsalan and wounds to Yasir. According to the prosecution, complainant Badshah Khan said that his relative Hidayatullah Mehsud informed him on December 6, 2021, that his nephew Arsalan Mehsood and his friend Afridi had sustained firearm injuries and both were shifted to the Abbasi Shaheed Hospital for treatment. Later, 16-year-old Arsalan died during treatment, while Yasir survived. Members of the bereaved family rejected these allegations and stated that no firearm was recovered from Arsalan, nor did he have any sort of criminal record or any warnings. Police killed him in a fake encounter.
The challan submitted before the anti-terrorism court (ATC) stated that the suspects murdered the youngster on the whims of former SHO Azam Gopang and later tried to give the impression of a police encounter. It is said that Azam Gopang left his pistol and three bullets at the crime scene to create an impression of a police encounter.
“We have written letters to concerned authorities to verify the armed licences of suspects Azam Gopang and Touhid,” the challan read while sharing that reports related to postmortems and arms licences have not yet been received.
Officer Tauheed was arrested by the police, who lodged an FIR against him; the SHO of the area was suspended by the DIG-West, Nasir Aftab; moreover, an investigation committee was set up by the SSP to further investigate. The FIR was registered at the Orangi Town police station on the complaint of Arsalan’s uncle. Policemen named Tauheed, Umair, and former SHO Azam Gopang were booked under Section 302 of the Pakistan Penal Code and Section 7 of the Anti-Terrorism Act.
Section 46 CrPC, which prescribes the method of arresting, provides only that the police officer arresting an accused has no right “to cause the death of a person who is not accused of an offence punishable with death or with imprisonment for
Bilawal and Naqash:
On 3rd December in Qasba Colony, Orangi Town, two 24-year-olds, Muhammad Naqqash Ali and Bilawal Chanzeb, were the victims in an alleged encounter with the police, framed for being robbers.
Another eerily familiar story crafted by the police—boys caught in the act stamped as robbers. It is reported that Bilawal Chanzeb and his friend Muhammad Naqash Ali were previously attempting a robbery in Qasba Colony at the house of Mubarak Shah, dressed in female burqas, albeit noticing the strangeness in their footwear; one of Mubarak Shah’s neighbours reported this to the police. Out of a total of nineteen bullets, it is said that 3 were fired from the suspect’s side. Another key detail is that, according to the police claim, the two had held a 15-year-old girl hostage as well. In the end, this was once again paraded and celebrated as a “success”.
The families related a different tale; the boys had clean criminal records and were titled innocent, law-abiding citizens. They were allegedly lured to the crime scene by girls they knew who held significant connections with them, resulting in them being killed in cold blood under pretences. According to Naqash’s father, Muhammad Ali Khan, the two had been tortured, murdered, and then framed to further prove it, as a fake FIR had been registered to cover it up.
After vivid protests and media pressure, a Joint Investigation Team was set up to further process the information collected at the scene; a comprehensive report by the JIT member was going to be sent to the ASJ before the next hearing on January 30. After Muhammad Ali Khan applied to the court, the applicant alleged that the police misused their official powers and colluded with private individuals to stage the encounter, adding that after public protests, a departmental inquiry was initiated by the AIG Karachi, which found the encounter to be suspicious. Consequently, a joint investigation team was constituted, comprising an SSP as chairman, DSP Muhammad Muqeem, and Inspector Aijaz Baloch. But still, no proper result was reached as expected; the police would protect their officers.
No accountability. No arrests. only grief
“Faked ‘encounter killings’ are a particularly common form of extrajudicial killings by police in Pakistan… Many are faked outright and are not merely the use of excessive force but an extrajudicial execution.”
— HRW Report: “This Crooked System”, September 2016
One case ended in a closed file, while the other led to arrests and suspensions. But neither brought justice or clarity to the victim’s family. This is not just one case—it’s a symptom of a pattern that is all too familiar to the residents of Orangi.
Reward System Behind The Bullet
More than once, police take part in a social cleansing of sorts where suspected criminals or poor members of marginalised communities are targeted. Fear isn’t the only byproduct of these encounters; they are fuelled by incentives. Officers learn early on that the system doesn’t bat an eye towards what happened; they simply need the odds to be in their favour no matter the consequences. To put it straight, results matter more than the truth.
Once encounters with killings become a legitimate tool for dealing with crime rates, subordinate officers become bolder and grow motivated to use these tactics for their benefit. Deadly force is used not to bring justice—but to raise the officer’s ranks, and in return, these acts are rewarded with promises of promotions, praise, and media appreciation that credit them as “crime fighters”.
“Once encounter killings are accepted as a legitimate means of dealing with hardened criminals, subordinate staff are emboldened to administer this policy for reasons including personal gain and to show ‘good performance’.”
— Dawn Editorial, January 2023
Few police departments include “encounters led” as a factor for performance appraisals. Those with the most numbers on the charts are titled “encounter specialists”—they are respected and admired. In high-crime areas, especially Orangi, these shortcuts are quite common. The inability to reduce or lower the actual crime stats leaves officers greedy for some sort of closure; thus, the appeal for encounters.
“Police indulge in this blatantly illegal activity to show how ‘active’ they are in controlling crime… while actual criminals roam free.” — HRCP Report, 2019
These young boys, like Arsalan, Naqash, and Bilawal, were simply meant to fill a quota, scapegoats to avoid the bigger problems. It is easier to tackle and falsely accuse a boy than come face to face with avid gang members; accordingly, those supposedly hardened criminals are untouched in fear of being too powerful, deadly, and, in some circumstances, protected. The absence of an independent oversight body to hold these officers accountable gives them more motivation to continue their heinous tasks.
The officers move forward with the same mentality: “FIR lag gaya, case khatam”; therefore, FIRs are registered by the same officers who pulled their weapons. While in special cases JITs or special enquiries may begin, they rarely ever lead to any closure for the victims’ families. The system can not keep pretending this is normal. Every day in Orangi a house grows empty, a child never gets to outgrow his school uniform, and he is made to lie in between faint chalk lines.
Who Will Be Next?
Instead of strengthening these institutions, our systems exploit them; encounters become shortcuts for forces to cover up their inabilities and failures. Because of this mismanagement, several homes in Orangi have lost their children. Somewhere behind these desks, children are stamped off as statistics. Reports are closed. Names were disregarded into silence—the cycle of justice continues spinning, warding off its promises to remain as a guardian for its civilians.
Who consoles the families that have buried their sons? Who brings their hearts to peace knowing their children have been stripped away from them? They remain stuck in a truth no one wants to hear. Orangi has buried enough sons and children and will continue to do so unless we stop mistaking silence for order and fear for justice. Until the bullets stop chanting these children’s names—burying themselves in their chests through and through.
